Page 35 of Better the Devil

Waiting for what, Hamza didn’t know. They’d already been presented with their hi-vis vests. A uniformed sergeant, Gavin Fleck, had done that, shaking hands with each member as they came up to collect their bright yellow tabard.

Fleck was someone Hamza had seen in and around the station and at a handful of crime scenes, but had never directly interacted with. He was in his early forties, with a receding hairline, bright red cheeks, and a paunch that suggested he didn’t spend a lot of his time chasing down suspects on foot.

He had the look of someone for whom community policing had been a calling, not a stopgap. And his performance that day had only confirmed it.

He’d smiled, thanked them for their service, and posed for photographs with each and every one of them. And, to his immense credit, he’d even managed to look like he was enjoying it.

Oh sure, there were points when the mask had slipped—he’d had to stop for a quick swig of water somewhere around the sixtieth handshake, and had endeared himself immensely to Hamza by mouthing a silent, ‘Bloody hell,’ while his back was to the audience.

By and large, though, he remained a consummate professional, and every member of the audience who’d been presented with a vest returned to their seats a little taller than they’d left them.

That part had been done and dealt with. So, what were they still hanging around for?

Some tea urns were being wheeled out up the back of the draughty old hall. Biscuits were being arranged on plates. Cellophane-wrapped trays of sandwiches were being laid out, but remained covered for the moment.

Maybe that was it, then. Maybe that was what they were waiting for. Looking out at the audience, Hamza imagined that a fairly high percentage was only really in it for the social aspects. A bit of company. Something to do. A wee bit of purpose in their twilight years, while serving their communities.

It was good. It was… nice.

But he had a murder to be getting back to.

He caught the eye of Sergeant Fleck, and beckoned him over.

‘What’s the…?’ he began, but the sergeant gave a reassuring wave of the hand, then tipped his head towards the lectern that stood off to his right.

‘Don’t worry. Just getting to it now,’ Fleck said, then he went scurrying over to the podium before Hamza could ask any more.

‘Just getting to what?’ the DI muttered.

‘Buggered if I know,’ said Ben. Somehow, he’d already got his hands on a cup of tea, and was dunking a chocolate digestive into it while his eyes scanned the room.

The councillors were now seated in the front row of the audience. There were a couple of empty seats beside them, which Hamza assumed were for him and Ben, but nobody had explicitly said so.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to sit down. Sitting down implied he was hanging around, and the sooner he could get out of here and back to doing some actual real work, the better.

There was an ear-splitting squeal of feedback as Sergeant Fleck tapped the microphone. What little murmur of conversation there had been abruptly fell away into silence.

‘Sorry about that. Technology! Isn’t it wonderful?’ Fleck said, to the amused agreement from the elderly audience. ‘Anyway, thank you all for coming. It’s great looking out here and seeing so many members of our various communities gathered together to support one another. Retired people, office workers, mechanics, nurses, cleaners, ex-soldiers, parents, grandparents, people from all walks of life, coming together to protect and to care for the places we live.’

There was a round of applause at that. The members of the audience all looked around and smiled at one another, sharing in the moment.

‘We’ve even got Archie Howden, who’s a bank manager, but we’ll not hold that against him.’

Laughter rippled through the audience. A nervous-looking middle-aged man in a cheap suit half-rose from his chair and tipped an imaginary hat.

Sergeant Fleck let him enjoy his few seconds in the spotlight before continuing.

‘It has been an absolute pleasure to present you with those well-earned state-of-the-art hi-vis vests which, I hope, will help cement the future of HAWKS, and allow us to continue protecting Highland communities from Glencoe to John o’ Groats.’

‘And Ullapool,’ someone in the audience added.

Fleck’s smile didn’t falter. ‘Aye, don’t worry, I was including Ullapool in that. I meant the whole… Top to bottom, sort of thing, and everything in between.’

‘Bottom to top,’ another voice chimed in.

This one caught the sergeant off guard. ‘Sorry?’

‘Glencoe to John O’ Groats. That’s bottom to top, no’ top to bottom.’